More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
Her parents’ unwillingness to enroll her in school growing up had mostly been rooted in their philosophy about living free of society’s influence and a general mistrust of the ways of the modern world, but they’d taught her well, hadn’t they? Ren knew what mattered: honesty, humility, hard work, and self-sufficiency.
Ren mentally logged this: People are protective of their devices.
“If you took the raw confidence of Florence Pugh, the bone structure of Austin Butler, the charm of Jenna Ortega, and multiplied it by the effortless sensuality of Timothée Chalamet, you’d have Fitz.”
When their eyes met, Ren felt suddenly naked at the way his expression had gone blank, at the way he stared directly at her face, finally exposed. He exhaled a quiet “Oh.”
“Okay, but please take the big bed.” Fitz fell back again, rubbing himself all over the pile of blankets on the floor, rolling from his stomach to his back before sitting up again. “There,” he said. “I’ve marked it. It’s mine.” “Please, if you think that will deter me, you clearly don’t know that I’ve slept in a pen with pigs before.”
One by one, she pulled items out: a watch, a wad of assorted crumpled bills, their wallets with everything still inside, a Subway gift card, a roll of quarters, some sunglasses, a pack of gum, a business card for a motorcycle shop, a whole bunch of loose change, a burner phone, and a fat wad of twenties secured with a rubber band.
He didn’t want to keep thinking about the scene back at the saloon, where she was fearless and beautiful and naive and irresistible all at once.
Ren was still having more fun than she’d ever had before. With Fitz. Fitz, that confusing, guarded, funny, protective, hot softie asleep in the bed over there. Fitz, who’d been trying to get rid of her for the last two days but for a flash last night looked at her like she was something to be treasured. Fitz, who was quickly becoming her favorite part of this trip.
“Duct tape, a pocketknife, and a cast-iron frying pan.”
Truly the last thing he should be doing was flirting with a woman who was so naive and only knew how to take things sincerely, talking with a woman who could get all his secrets to pour out of him like water from a pitcher, falling for a woman who would put her unscarred heart in his broken hands.
She’s work you don’t have time for.” Fitz stared at his own reflection, expression hardening. “And more importantly, she’s way too good for you, so don’t even bother.”
Fitz signaled for the exit and navigated Max to the hotel without even once glancing down at his phone.
“This Mustang is a finely tuned machine. A classic.” He reached out and put a consoling hand on the dashboard. “Don’t worry, Max. She didn’t mean it.” The engine rumbled in reply.
He’d been wrong last night. A chance to be with Ren—for three months, a week, a day, an hour—was worth the risk of getting hurt. For her, he would willingly walk toward that blind turn. But he couldn’t do it without her knowing the truth about him. He just had to figure out how to tell her.
“But I’ve done some bad things, Ren. Some really shitty things. It’s hard to feel like I deserve good things. And you…you’re the best thing.”
It occurred to him later, when they were in the hotel brushing teeth side by side, that he’d been lucky three times in his life: The day he met Mary. The day he met Judge Iman. And the day he met Ren.
She didn’t know that Edward was already there, that he already knew who she was, and that he’d throw everything away in a heartbeat if it meant he’d get Ren out of her hands.
“There are beautiful things that came out of this tragedy. The way I feel about you is beautiful to me. It feels like a gift. I want to let my heart stay open, even if it’s scary to trust again.”
